


Funny How Love Is

by eckarius



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Background Anathema/Newt - Freeform, Crowley loves flowers, Domestic Fluff, Ineffable husbands are soft and so deeply in love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eckarius/pseuds/eckarius
Summary: As Aziraphale has learned from Anathema and Adam, Valentine’s Day is a reluctantly-celebrated holiday made to sell sweets, cards, and assorted plush accoutrements. He isn’t very aware of why everyone feels pressured to celebrate it, especially since he and Crowley had gone six-thousand years now without any inclination to ever give it a go. But, he thinks it’s a nice occasion to take him somewhere other than the Ritz, or inviting him over to drink in the bookshop.





	Funny How Love Is

As Aziraphale has learned from Anathema and Adam, Valentine’s Day is a reluctantly-celebrated holiday made to sell sweets, cards, and assorted plush accoutrements. He isn’t very aware of why everyone feels pressured to celebrate it, especially since he and Crowley had gone six-thousand years now without any inclination to ever give it a go. But, he thinks it’s a nice occasion to take him somewhere other than the Ritz, or inviting him over to drink in the bookshop.

He planned it with Anathema for a week or so—Aziraphale was going to take Crowley to the Soho Square Gardens, a nice change of pace from St. James’s, followed by dinner and dessert at a cozy eatery just a block away, then give him his gift when they returned to the bookshop as they always did after an outing together. Aziraphale spent a long time deciding what Crowley would like, be it another book about the cosmos he helped create, a bouquet of well-loved flowers to contrast with the terrified foliage currently residing in his flat, or something else he wouldn’t have expected.

Adam suggested that he give Crowley an engagement ring, since he found it odd that the two hadn’t even considered getting married yet. Aziraphale’s justification for not tying the knot was only that they already acted as a married couple, according to everyone around them. He’d never really considered asking Crowley to marry him, since he thought marriage was a silly human tradition. Though, Aziraphale had been thinking about it for a while, and he quite liked the thought of having a small ceremony with all of their friends. It’d be a lovely excuse to get Crowley to wear white, and the cake Newt and Anathema served at their wedding was absolutely divine. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Crowley to have a ceremony, as he did quite love the dancing at weddings, and the boatloads of alcohol on standby.

But that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Crowley was still very against marriage. He found it pointless in their situation, seeing as the only big benefit to marriage was health insurance and being able to see your partner in the hospital when they were ill. Crowley knew so many couples before gay marriage had been legalised, unable to see their sick partners and in some cases being denied access to them while they died, getting shut out of the funerals by their lover’s families.

Aziraphale acknowledged that Crowley’s viewpoint was cynical, but he had reason to act that way. It didn’t mean that he didn’t still dream about marrying Crowley, however.

He ignored all of that nonsense about marriage, however. It wouldn’t come up on Valentine’s Day, he promised himself. Mentioning it would probably upset Crowley, they’d argue the reasons they should and shouldn’t enter a binding contract like that, and go to bed either sullen and regretting the decision to argue or giving each other hushed apologies in the dark.

Aziraphale waits in the shop for Crowley to peel up the road, checking his pocket watch more than he needs to and worrying that something more important has come up. His fears dissipate the moment he sees the Bentley pull up to the curb. Crowley’s been down to the cottage more often, moving all of his things into it while Aziraphale slowly empties his personal belongings from the shop. He doesn’t plan to sell it, as the cottage can’t account for his vast collection without some miracling they can’t afford right now. But, he’s going to be at the bookshop less now. It’s one of the first major changes in his life in a while (beside the whole “verbally acknowledging his romantic relationship with Crowley” ordeal).

He waits in his chair in the back, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything on him. His heart flutters a bit waiting for Crowley to knock, or ring the bell, or simply yell “Angel!”

The bell rings, followed by a muffled “Aziraphale? You in there?” He walks over to the door, opening it and being greeted by a very primped Crowley. His hair is growing out again, it’s long enough to be pulled into a bun at the crown of his head. A few wisps drift at the sides of his face. He can faintly make out a bit of eyeliner behind his shades, and a berry-coloured tint applied to his lips. Aziraphale spends a bit too long silently admiring him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear,” Aziraphale says, fondly smiling at him. Crowley grins back, he’s still not quite adjusted to this whole relationship business so he has no idea when he’s supposed to show affection or not. 

The first time they went to stay in the cottage, they sat in bed and chatted about nothing at all to keep Aziraphale from worrying about Heaven and Hell searching for them. Crowley was watching Aziraphale talk about how he wanted to make some tea when he leaned in and kissed him. It was warm, it was soft, and Aziraphale simply smiled at Crowley after he did it. The rest of their stay at the cottage was spent cuddling together in bed, holding hands around the small town a short walk away, and occasionally kissing each other when they couldn’t resist it. Crowley particularly liked the cuddling, so every time they stayed together he insisted that they cuddle. He loved Aziraphale’s warmth, and Aziraphale loved the feeling of being cuddled.

But now, he can scarcely figure out when the moment calls for romance. He’s wanted to reach across their table at the Ritz and hold Aziraphale’s hand, sit with their thighs touching on the bench in St. James’s, kiss him when he dropped him off at the bookshop. Dropped him off anywhere, for a matter of fact.

“Shall we walk to the garden or drive?” Crowley hoped he’d say drive, only because he wanted to get stuck in traffic and listen to a few lovey-dovey Queen songs while they waited.

“Let’s walk.” Aziraphale says, holding out his hand to Crowley. He takes the angel’s hand in his own, a small smile curling on the corners of his lips.

They’re both surprised to find it’s not raining, but they don’t complain. When the sidewalk gets crowded, Aziraphale falls behind Crowley, still holding his hand. A while ago Crowley painted Aziraphale’s nails white to compliment his own black nails. His nail polish had stayed as pristine as the day it was applied, while Crowley’s is chipped and almost completely peeled away. Aziraphale makes a note to himself, when he wants to give Crowley a gift next, he’ll get him a nice black nail lacquer.

They reach the garden in no time, finding themselves stepping into a sea of other happy couples. Aziraphale feels the comforting heat of love flashing all around him, almost soaking him. This was a good idea, and they hadn’t even begun to admire any flowers yet.

Crowley slips past all the couples, keeping his grasp on Aziraphale and threading him through the crowd. He stops at a cluster of red and white flowers, they look like oddly-coloured daffodils to Aziraphale. Though, he has his own personal almanac beside him, ready to spout any and all information about the plant.

“ _ Amaryllis.  _ This assortment is a bit like us, huh, angel?” He asks, regarding them with a kind of love that makes Aziraphale’s heart swell.

“I suppose they do, dear.” He says back, looking up at him with warmth in his eyes.

“They mean ‘splendid beauty.’ Flowers just don’t fear me like foliage, I couldn’t keep them. Too proud of themselves, I think.” Crowley regards, turning back to Aziraphale and almost blushing at the hearts blooming in his eyes. “Here, let’s find the carnations. Your friend Oscar was a big fan of them, wasn’t he?”

Aziraphale puts on an act of being huffy, it makes Crowley laugh.

He approaches the carnations, finding them assorted in a bunch of white, pink, and yellow. Of course, Aziraphale notes that they look beautiful together.

“Shouldn’t have yellow in there. Those ones mean ‘disdain.’” He looks over at Aziraphale, who simply nods and looks back at the flowers. “The pink and the white are good, though. I was going to get you a bouquet of them today, but I didn’t want you to have to carry flowers around all day.”

“Well, the thought was nice, dear.” Aziraphale says. He woudn’t have wanted Crowley to get him a bouquet, really, since he would have felt bad when they wilted and died under his care.

They wander around the garden for about an hour and a half before closing time, witnessing three proposals and one teary-eyed breakup. The garden had been set to close at five for the holiday, and Aziraphale was sure to book their table about ten minutes after closing time. They took their sweet time walking out of the park, admiring all of the flowers they hadn’t had the chance to see when they first came in, and finally exited to the sidewalk.

Aziraphale leads Crowley to the restaurant, one that now has a short line coming out the doors. He worries that their reservation has been given to another couple, and that they won’t be able to dine out after all (seeing at the Ritz would definitely be overbooked on Valentine’s Day). 

Though, a hostess comes out of the doors, loudly asking if anyone has made reservations. Aziraphale raises his hand high in the air, they’re both taken into the restaurant along with another couple and a small group of women. They’re seated in a back corner, given complimentary champagne with a strawberry sitting at the bottom of the flute, absorbing the alcohol. Crowley decides to order something off the menu, which shocks Aziraphale. He hadn’t expected him to eat anything that night, but maybe he was just ordering something to make his angel happy. Either way, Aziraphale appreciated the gesture.

Aziraphale orders half-shelled oysters for an appetiser, followed by a plate of beef tenderloin with cognac sauce to share with Crowley. Their champagne is topped off, Aziraphale finishes his quickly, and he uses the long toothpick stuck into the strawberry to fish it out and eat it. Crowley pulls his out of his drink, biting a bit of it and chewing slowly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a strawberry,” Aziraphale says, bemused at Crowley taking another small bite. He mostly likes that it tastes a bit of champagne, but he’s alright with the fruit in general.

“I’ve never had one before tonight.” He finishes the strawberry by the time the oysters arrive at the table, which he does know what to do with. Even though he last had them in Greece, he remembers Aziraphale coaching him on how to eat them. While his throat wants to close off before the slimy oyster goop can slide down it, he relaxes himself, enjoying the aftertaste.

Crowley watches Aziraphale fiddle around with his utensils, it comforts him knowing that he’s not quite adjusted to romance yet, either. He still acts like he has to hide how he feels, hide that he wants to curl up beside Crowley and lazily play with his hair. Not like Crowley isn’t like that, either. In private, he can barely keep himself off of Aziraphale.

He leans in a bit closer, resting his jaw on his hand. When Aziraphale finally notices how close he is, he grins. He places a small kiss on Crowley’s nose, the kind he’d give him when he was in his snake form, curled up on his shoulders while he bustled around the shop. Crowley leans in, kissing him on the lips. He tastes like whatever was used to season the oysters and champagne, Crowley smiles into the kiss.

They’re broken up when their dinner arrives. Aziraphale brushes off the fact that they were caught, he kind of enjoys it, while Crowley is blushing up to his hairline. He revels in the demon’s bashfulness, all while he slowly works on dinner. Crowley finishes quickly, deciding to load up on champagne while Aziraphale savours each bite.

“Are you getting off on my embarrassment?” Crowley asks, almost whispering. Aziraphale shrugs, which only gets Crowley more flustered. “That’s not fair, angel.”

“But you’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed,” Aziraphale argues. That gets him to grin into his champagne flute.

They chatter to each other while Aziraphale finishes dinner, and Crowley’s stomach is beginning to growl again. He browses the dessert menu, reading off the options to Aziraphale. He argues by saying that he’s barely had time to digest his dinner, but he quickly gives up when Crowley starts reading the description of a chocolate-raspberry parfait. The mere mention of whipped cream and chocolate liqueur makes his mouth water, and they order one to share. It’s rare they get one dessert to share, even a meal to share, but there’s something romantic about sharing a meal.

The parfait is served with a tempered chocolate heart on top, which they split with a knife. Crowley slows himself down while he eats with Aziraphale, wanting to make sure they both get an equal amount of the dessert. Aziraphale scoops all three layers of the parfait and holds his spoon up, offering it to Crowley. He takes it and does the same for Aziraphale, which helps them finish their dessert quickly.

They stroll back down to the bookshop, holding hands once again. Crowley thinks about how the night has gone and wonders if what he’s planning to do next will ruin it. He has a gift for Aziraphale in the passenger seat of his car, one which he isn’t certain he’ll like. He decided to go for something more thoughtful than a book, but maybe that was a bad choice to make. Too risky.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale is terrified that Crowley is going to take one look at his gift and reject it. He’ll storm out of the bookshop and return home to sulk about. And Valentine’s Day has been going so swimmingly.

They stand outside the bookshop, Aziraphale is unlocking the front doors and Crowley picks up the bag from his car. They step through the dark shop and go to the back, settling down at the table.

“Do you feel anxious, angel?” Crowley asks, glancing up from his clasped hands. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

Aziraphale reaches across the table, holding Crowley’s hands. “Why are you nervous?”

Crowley sighs, looking at their linked hands. He runs his fingers over Aziraphale’s, a giddy little feeling rushes through him for a brief moment when he sees the white nail polish standing out against his.

“I feel like I’ll bugger up everything. I’ve felt a bit like that all day.” Crowley says, circling his thumb around one of Aziraphale’s nails.

Aziraphale shakes his head, a look of confusion and concern on his face.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ve been lovely company all day. You haven’t buggered anything up in my eyes.” He pets Crowley’s hands, trying to calm him down.

He looks up at Aziraphale and gives a faint smile, then pushes his bag forward. Crowley watches him push through the tissue paper, leaving it intact and very carefully disrupted. He pulls out a thin silver frame with a notecard taped to the front, one which holds dozens of pressed flowers. Aziraphale covers his mouth with one hand and reads the notes on each flower, what each of them represents.

“I thought that’d be better than a bouquet.” Crowley says, before pointing at a little cluster of white flowers. “Those ones, the  _ linaria bipartita  _ mean ‘please notice my feelings for you.’ I found a bunch of them in Morocco around that time we stopped speaking. I wanted to send you a pressed one but I thought it was too soon.”

Aziraphale looks on the brink of tears. He gets up and crosses the table, hugging Crowley closely and tightly. Crowley wraps his arms around Aziraphale and rubs his back gently, standing so it’s less awkward. When he pulls back, his eyes dance around Crowley’s face.

“Oh, this is absolutely lovely, dear. Thank you.” He smiles up at Crowley, cupping his cheeks in his hands.

“You’re welcome.” Crowley still feels like his heart is going to explode, that didn’t help his anxiety at all. Still, Aziraphale offers his own gift, and that calms Crowley down temporarily.

Crowley is given a box, one that he regards for a long moment before opening. Aziraphale’s eyes light up when Crowley picks the snake-shaped bracelet out of the box, and his face grows into a ridiculous smile. He places it on his wrist immediately, holding it up to the light so its red gem eyes glitter.

“Where did you find this?” Crowley asks, still admiring it.

“Anathema made it. She used a protective incantation on it, it’s supposed to defend you against Heaven and Hell.” He runs a finger along the snake’s back, it resembles Crowley’s snake form almost to a T.

“I’ll have her make one for you too, then.” Crowley says, his voice so sweet and sentimental it sends a rush of warmth over Aziraphale.

He lets go of Crowley, telling him he’ll go get them a bottle of wine. Aziraphale waits in the kitchen, trying to bring himself to go back out and meet Crowley. He fiddles with the box in his waistcoat’s pocket, wondering if he should go ahead and give it to him.

Aziraphale exhales loudly and pushes along, holding in one hand a bottle of wine and in the other two glasses. While Crowley’s fiddling with something in his pocket, Aziraphale opens the box and drops its contents into the glass, followed by a nice amount of white wine. He passes the glass to Crowley, who drains the glass quickly.

“Wait! Crowley!” Aziraphale yells, noticing the glass is completely empty. Crowley plucks a ring from his mouth, and his eyes widen. Aziraphale stares at the ring for a moment before dropping down to one knee. “I’m so sorry, but wi—”

Crowley shakes his head momentarily before he fumbles around in his pocket, plucking out an almost identical box. “There’s no way—”

“Oh my. Dear, are you sure?” Aziraphale asks, but immediately regrets the way he phrased it. “I mean, I thought you weren’t interested in marriage.”

“Well, you got me to think about it. And I’ve gotten a bit used to calling you my husband.” Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s hand and brings him up to his feet. He holds both of his hands, rubbing his left ring finger. “So, how about we make tonight perfect?”

Aziraphale shakes his head gently, bringing his hands up and kissing them softly. “It already was utterly perfect, my dear. But yes, I’d love to be your husband, Anthony J. Crowley.”

“I’d love to be yours, too.” Crowley’s face flushes red, and he lets Aziraphale place the white wine-flavoured ring onto his finger. He follows suit, taking his own ring out of its box and sliding it onto Aziraphale’s finger. Crowley simply looks at their clasped hands for a moment, thinking that he’d never see this. He believed that he’d never get the confidence to even tell Aziraphale about his feelings, let alone get over his bitterness towards marriage to propose.

Aziraphale kisses him gently, holding him close. Crowley’s hands rest around Aziraphale’s waist, fitting comfortably against him. They continue to embrace each other for a while, eventually breaking apart so Aziraphale can hang his framed flowers beside his chair in the bookshop. He worries that someone could steal it, but Crowley assures him that no one is going to steal pressed flowers.

They come back together after Crowley puts on a record, one that miraculously becomes Queen before the needle is placed upon it. It begins to croon out “You’re My Best Friend,” which they struggle to dance to. Aziraphale isn’t very skilled at waltzing, and the same goes for Crowley. They dance clumsily, Aziraphale steps on Crowley’s foot and Aziraphale almost hurts his wrist trying to spin Crowley. When the song fizzles out, they hold each other close. After a while they head out to the Bentley, intending to spend the rest of the night at the cottage.

Crowley and Aziraphale spend the morning of the fifteenth of February cuddling together in bed, talking about nothing in particular. That afternoon they’d go to the beach and thrill their neighbours with the announcement of their engagement. They were both excited to tell everyone in Tadfield, but for the time being they fall asleep, drunk and in love and comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> i love these soft boys so much and i only want them to know love and happiness. after all they’ve been through, they deserve it.


End file.
